


Whiskey Soaked Lavender

by Adeline_Hatter



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking & Talking, F/M, First Meetings, Modern Fantasy AU, No matter where the House of Mystery ends up Zari finds it, Tea drinking in Zari's case, The House of Mystery, Zari 2.0
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24302629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adeline_Hatter/pseuds/Adeline_Hatter
Summary: The House of Mystery will go wherever it pleases, usually it will appear to people who require assistance in someway.It does not often get repeat visitors.But Zari Tarazi appears to be a special case.
Relationships: John Constantine/Zari Tomaz | Zari Tarazi, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 52





	1. Whitby

She’s decided that she hates Britain, that she hates the rain and the downpour, hates that she forgot her umbrella and that her phone is out of charge as she rushes down the street to find  _ somewhere  _ to get out of the cold hard rush of water that has already ruined her hair and is on it’s way to ruining her pores too. 

The only problem is that she’s stuck in some remote town that she barely remembers the name of and almost everything is closed or closing, unwilling to let her in to hide from the rain or buy an umbrella or even borrow a charger to charge her phone.

Plus, almost every person who speaks sounds utterly insane to her, she only caught the third and fourth words of every sentence, but usually it’s just a resounding ‘No.’ all around. 

Zari is about to walk past a side road when something stops her, she doesn’t know why she turned but she does and it’s because of this that she sees the small store front.

It is a softly decorated window, writing looping across in purple writing with small flowers spiralling, it looks a little victorian in design with large wide windows and an inset door.

_ The House of Mystery  _ is scrawled in a curled font upon clear glass.

She walked towards it properly and saw, outlined in golden script beneath the name of the shop. 

_ Books and Antiques Emporium _

The flowers on the window are orchids she notes in the back of her mind, she did like orchids. 

She pushed the door gently, expecting it to be locked as there isn’t a sign for the opening hours of the store, nor a closed or open sign, the door swings in gently and Zari curled her nose at the smell of cigarettes lingering in the air, then as she stepped in the door the scent changes to something mellow and sweet, floral, before it settles on what smells like lavender mixed with the lingering smoke. 

Bookshelves greet her, lined with books with names she can’t pronounce, or read completely as dust lingers on the covers and spines, small trinkets are shoved in as well, little crystal display boxes with various rings, necklaces and bracelets. 

She walked through the store slowly, carefully, she opened her mouth to call out and ask if anyone is there when her eyes linger on a necklace, the red stone stares at her from within a golden casing and chain, called to her almost and she pulls out her phone to take a photo when she remembers that it’s dead.

There’s a sound somewhere behind her and she jumped, turning fast on her heels to find a bar where she could have sworn a bookshelf was a moment ago. 

It is made of dark oak wood and resembles the pub bars she’s seen in various tv shows over the years, she’s never seen one in person after all she doesn’t make a habit of going into pubs or bars. 

Coasters sit lined up in a row and beer taps all shine with brands she can’t even really begin to comprehend, the bar stools look to be made of soft leather seats and she approached, wondering how all of this could fit in such a tiny store. 

Her hair is starting to curl as it dries and Zari peered around the store once more, eyes lingering on the pendant before her returning her gaze to the bar to see if she can find a bell there. 

A bell sat in the middle of the bar, between two coasters boasting about a soccer team, all shiny and silver with a black base. 

She rang it. 

It echoes out and nothing happens, so she rang it again… And then again.. 

She went to do it a fourth time when the door behind the bar swung open and a curse spilt out, a man spilled out of it, in a dusty and overly ruffy button up that all she can do is place him as is a man from the reject pile of hobos for those scenic shots of New York in a dark and gritty tv show.

He’s a dirty blonde haired being, she’d call him handsome if there wasn’t a glass of whiskey in his hand and an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. 

“How’d you get in here?” He asked, watching her with narrowed dark eyes that definitely didn’t belong on a face like that, his fingers removing the cigarette from his mouth, “I could have sworn I locked the door.” 

Zari raised her eyebrows, “Well, it opened with just one little push, so you must have forgotten.”

“Oh, I don’t think it was me.” He muttered, then seemed to look her over properly and stood up straighter, Zari pondered the meaning of the sentence and the weird way he said it, “Christ, you’re soaked to the bone love.”

There it was, the strange british slang that seemed to dot the voices of every single person in this godforsaken country, she could conclude that he was referring to the state of her designer coat, her designer top, her skirt… Her  _ louboutins.  _

“Look, the door opened, I’m here, do you have a phone charger?” She paused, standing up a bit taller to look him in the eyes, “Can I stay in here and charge my phone until the rain clears?” 

It takes a moment, a beat of a second but a few of her heart as he looked her over again, “No phone charger-” 

“Then what’s plugged into the wall?” She pointed at the charger, that lay next to what looks like an absolutely ancient coffee machine with a perfect match charger for her phone, watching his expression change to house a pinch more of annoyance than what had been present, “Can I use it? Please?”

He looked her over for a third time, “Let me get you something to drink, warm you up a bit?” Lazily he set aside his drink, pulling the cable across the space toward her and she took it, smiling tightly at him as she plugged it in and set it down, “Cute case.” 

“Thanks, I designed it.” It clicks in her head and she tilts her head at him, his eyes move like he’s tracking the motion, “Are you being sarcastic?” 

There’s another moment of silence as he seemed to regard her once again, reevaluating her in some way, “A little, my apologies, I had hoped to spend my evening wallowing alone in my house, my house apparently has other plans.” 

“How can your house contradict your plans?” Zari settled herself down on a barstool, “And I’ll have a cup of green tea if you have it.”

“Are you sure you don’t need something stronger?” But he’s opening a cabinet as he says it, pulling down a mug from it, then reaching for a tin, “I think I have some more whiskey somewhere.” 

Zari shook her head, hair now more dry than before, in fact her whole body of clothing seems dry, but it hadn’t been that long since she’d come inside, “Don’t drink, tea will be fine thank you.” 

“Understood.” He turned to face her as he pressed the hot water button on the machine, “So, what brings a girl like you into a place like this?”

She debated answering honestly, watching her tea being made without complaint, “Well, the rain mostly… But here as in this corner of the world? My brother and his dumbass thot of a boyfriend.” 

The mug has a cat on the side of it, grey tabby as he slid it over to her, “Sounds like a story.” His fingers tap on the counter and he shoved the cigarette behind his ear, leaning back against the back bar, “What’s your name love?” 

She reached for her wallet in her bag, “You mean you don’t know? Behrad was right, no one in little idyllic british towns know celebrities.” 

“Some of us do, if they’re like me they don’t really pay attention to anything other than the weather or if the world’s ending.” He shrugged and she found herself rolling her eyes, “So, what’s your name, love?”

Her lips pressed together as she pulled a five pound note from her purse, “Is this enough for the tea?” 

“It’s on the house, literally.” He smiled as he tapped on the back bar twice, an inside joke she doesn’t quite understand, “If it makes you uncomfortable to tell me your name, I understand.” 

She shook her head, “No it’s just… You could google me.” 

“Never been a fan of google, it’s witchcraft of the highest degree, the devil lurks in each search.” 

Zari leant away from him a bit, “Are you one of those chooky wooky christians?”

“I’m a Bisexual man, covered in tattoos, who sins regularly, sinning right now.”

“You’re dodging the question.” She picked up her tea and sipped it, in time with him sipping his whiskey as he tilts his head at her, “Tarazi, Zari Tarazi and you are?”

He holds out his hand, “John Constantine.” 

She shakes it, feeling the callouses along his palm and fingers as he gripped her hand strongly, “Thank you for letting me hide from the rain.” 

“Shouldn’t be thanking me.” And his eyes float around them, to the walls of the shop, “Thank the fault of mind of not locking the door.”

She laughed and surprised herself in the process of how genuine it sounds, “Thank you absent mindedness.”

“I do still have one question for you though, love... “ He tilted his head, “Why Whitby and why on Goth weekend?”

Her hands land on the mug, “Is this ‘Goth’ weekend why I see people carrying around bags full of booze and party supplies whilst dressed to the nines in black?”

“Possibly, though that is just Whitby on a good day.” He sipped his whiskey again, nodding his head a bit, “Have you visited the Abbey?”

She shook her head again, curls flying around a bit, “Not yet, I’m going on a tour tomorrow, thought it would make a good background for my selfies.”

“Selfies? In Dracula’s Abbey?”

“Dracula?” The trivia that had been grilled into her head by Nate returned slowly, “Right, the Abbey is what inspired Bram Stoker isn’t it?” She paused with her cup halfway to her face, placing her elbows down on the bar, “Honestly, I let Charlie book the tickets, they know these parts better than I do.”

“Boyfriend?” Then he moved, softly, simply, “Girlfriend?” 

She shakes her head, “No, friends now, we dated for a bit in my last year of college- University for you guys? But we’re friends, though we do get nostalgic sometimes.” 

The more she talked, the easier she found it to talk to John, words following smoothly from her lips as the tea steamed up in her face, “Nostalgia is a powerful feeling.” 

Zari placed her mug down on one of the coasters, “Okay, you’re turn, why were you hoping to wallow alone this evening?”

“Do I have to tell you?”

“I opened up, this is a two way transaction of information.” Her words register at the same time as he placed his own drink down, he leaned forwards with his elbows on the bar and crowds her space a bit, “You can’t leave me on the edge of my seat, come on.”

John wears his shirt all tucked in but rolled up, each line is hard and sharp but there’s a softness in his face that she can see up close, “If you must know, I saw my ex out with another person and whilst it wouldn’t usually bother me…” 

“Nonsense, that kind of thing bothers everyone.” She waved off his fears, then picked her tea up again to sip it as she absolutely doesn't revel in his decision to lean across the bar towards her, “Did the relationship end badly?”

His attention is caught on her and she wondered why, he seemed to have completely forgotten about his whiskey and she can smell it on his breath, it’s surprising that it doesn’t bother her too much. 

“Tragedy and heartbreak, you know, all the hallmarks for an epic romance.” He’s being sarcastic again, but she’s not going to call him out on it, the unlit cigarette is still perched behind his ear, next to his overly tousled hair and the urge to flick it away is rising, “How’s the tea?”

She looked down at the half full mug that steamed softly and she wondered why it hadn't cooled past the drinking temperature, “It’s good, thank you again.” Zari lifted it, taking a long sip and met his eyes. 

He leaned away again, she missed the proximity almost immediately and wondered internally when her type became scruffy chic, “Finish it up and I’ll walk you back to your hotel, I have an umbrella somewhere.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” 

“Nonsense, can’t have you getting lost, the vampires might eat you.” He flashed her a grin so wide it caused a soft flutter in her stomach before he disappeared behind the door again and she stares after him. 

Zari lifted her mug and drained what was left of her tea just as he appeared again, a massive golf umbrella in one hand and a beige trenchcoat in the other, he offered her the umbrella over the bar and she took it as he slid the coat on as she unplugged her phone that was now nearly fully charged.

It suited him, he had a look and an aesthetic she could respect, put together in a way that was made to look unintentional, he probably spent hours in front of the mirror doing his hair and practicing the bastard energy. 

He hopped up over the bar, taking the umbrella from her and leading her back through the small maze of bookshelves filled with trinkets, rain beat against the sidewalk outside and he opened the door, a little bell above the door sounding and she wondered if it was there when she came in. 

John stepped outside first, popping the umbrella open then holding it out in her direction. 

Zari looked at the grey outside and stepped out into it, under the umbrella, “I’m staying at The Belfry.” She offered to him, as they stood on the street, world quiet and now dark around them. 

He nodded, starting to walk in the direction back to the main street, “I can get you there in ten minutes, come on.” 

A small part of her whispers the doubt about placing her trust in a near stranger, but he seemed kind enough, he’d made her tea and hadn’t kicked her out into the rain.

She smiled at him, briefly and nodded herself, “Lead on, Constantine.”

It’s funny, in hindsight, because she doesn’t recall the ground being wet or any drops of rain hitting her as they walked back to her hotel. 

Maybe Britain wasn’t  _ so  _ bad after all.


	2. New York - Zari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding and my excuse to write Charlie.

When people told her that she had a big head now she could point to a map and show them where her ‘Big Head’ was. 

It hung above her and she never tired of seeing it, Times Square bustling all around her like time was ever moving but she stood still, a pinpoint just out of time.

“Woah and I thought my head was big.” Charlie states next to her, arms crossed and covered in leather as they both tilted their heads up to look at the billboard advertising her vlog, “But damn Z, you look good.” 

She agreed in the best ways possible, the photos of her that where being cycled through repeatedly were perfectly polished with minimal touch ups to them, no body modification in photoshop or anything like that. 

“What can I say? I’m magic.” She laughs, smiling at Charlie, then looking around at all the people, “Everyone’s gonna know my face.”

Charlie tilts her head and winks, “It is a great face.” 

“Thank you-” Zari turns, something in the corner of her eyes, “-I work hard on maintaining it.” 

She watches the crowd for a moment, she could have _sworn_ she saw someone familiar there, mixed with the thousands of people travelling along the roads and lights. 

There’s another flash of something, the corner of her eye and she whips toward it, but it is gone again. 

Hands brace themselves on her upper arms, “Zari? Are you okay?” Charlie looks her over with an edge of concern that runs deep and familiar the longer they stand in one place, “You moved pretty fast there, what were you looking for?”

Zari shuts her eyes, what had it been in the corner of her eye? “I’m fine, just tired I think, you know it takes hours to get this glamorous.” She opens her eyes to see Charlie’s smile appearing, pushing whatever had happened to the back of her mind, “Probably should just get inside somewhere, you know?”

An arm snakes it’s way over her shoulders, a familiar gesture of comfort from the british punk rocker, “Come on then, we can pick up some take out on our way back to the hotel, we can even get some of that... “

“If you wanna travel to Greenwich Village with me and go to Banter, then I guess we have no choice.” Zari stalks towards one of the off streets from Times Square, “Let’s get a cab.” 

Charlie raises their eyebrows at her, “You’re buying.” 

“Of course I am.” Zari hails a cab, “I’m the one with money.” 

* * *

  
  


Charlie’s apartment in Brooklyn is tiny compared to the ones Zari herself usually rents when she’s in the city for an event or a trip or anything along those lines. 

It smells of cheap beer and the walls are covered with band posters that Charlie had once attempted to get her to listen to, but by the third Sex Pistols song realised that Zari was only going to be getting attached to David Bowie and Queen that year and they’d have to try again at a later date. 

There’s another song playing and the lyrics are weird in that they follow the usual conventions of the music that Charlie will listen to, but lying here on their couch, all the lyrics do are make Zari think of a british town in the rain and the smell of cigarettes mixed with lavender. 

_There’s a stranger in the mirror there’s a new face on the wall_

She watches Charlie make them both a cup of tea whilst the music plays decently loud enough, but not enough that the neighbours would come banging on the door. 

_After the newcastle incident I thought I’d seen it all_

Zari opens her mouth, she doesn’t know the words but she tries to sing along all the same, “ _Things like this are always happening to me…”_

“Didn’t take you for an Ookla and the Mok fan.” Charlie places her tea on the end table, before sipping her own, matching _Percy Jackson_ swag mugs from too many years ago to count, “Sorry, this song is a bit long, I can change it if you like.” 

She sits up, readjusting her hair so it sits better, before picking up her own mug of tea, “It’s alright, it’s kind of good.” 

“It’s seven minutes long, so I’m gonna change it.” Charlie reaches for her phone, then presses the skip button and another song comes on, this one more mind numbing as she turns the volume down, “Honestly, _Stranger in the mirror_ gets really repetitive after a little while.”

_Stranger in the mirror,_ Zari files away for later, she doesn’t know why, it just stays sat there in the forefront of her mind and the memories of one british man with a glass of whiskey and a cigarette linger, “I’ll take your word for it.” 

The song that’s playing now is something by the Kooks or what she _thinks_ is the Kooks, “How was Hegg? See anything interesting.” Referring to the tiniest of islands off the coast of Scotland.

“Just my dragon, he’s having a ball over there.” If it was anyone else, apart from maybe her brother, or Nate or her manager Ava, no one would believe a single word out of her mouth, “Mithra is enjoying the space to fly around, steady growth too.” 

Charlie nods, leaning against the kitchen doorway, “Still can’t get over the fact that you have a dragon, I mean, always believed in them as a kid and then you went and got famous for _owning_ a dragon.” 

“A load of people still think he was a puppet.” She shrugs, sipping her tea, she looks out of the window and the fall weather shows itself in the rapidly darkening sky and clouds, the colour of the leaves coming to land on Charlie’s fire escape, “But that’s on them, my Mithra is as real as they come and I adore him.” 

She’d filmed a new video whilst out there, planning to post it over the weekend, sometimes nothing beat filming a video on her phone with it’s proshot camera over getting a whole crew together and she hadn’t planned on filming anything when she’d gone over there but it had happened nonetheless. 

“So, how was Whitby?” Charlie approaches, flinging themselves down into the ratty and torn armchair that Zari is sure hasn’t been replaced since she found it in a furniture store at aged twenty-five, “Better than you expected or worse?”

Their hair crowds their face in loose little braids, flannel slipping off of one shoulder and Zari fights the urge to fix it, “Better, it rained a lot.”

“That’s just England, sorry.” There’s a grin on their lips, providing the evidence that they have never been apologetic for that factoid in their lives, “Where are you staying tonight? You probably have a hotel room but, you could always sleep here.”

It was attractive, the idea of curling up with Charlie, one of the few people who didn’t leave Zari feeling lonely, but… “Sorry, I’ve already booked a room at The Algonquin.” She says it, already knowing that the moment she walks out the door, loneliness will creep into her bones.

Charlie whistles, cradling their tea, “Then, I guess you get to buy dinner.” 

“Only if you play that song again.” 

“Stranger in the mirror? You know it’s not exactly a happy song right? Lyrics are a little sketchy too.” She is watched curiously, but she does suppose that she’s being a little bit out of the ordinary, “I’m ordering ramen too, the low calorie kind.”   
  
Charlie groans, “Yeah, okay, I guess I can live with that.” And she goes back a few tracks on her phone, the bars playing.

_It was time to make some doughnuts. It was very very early…_

  
  


* * *

Her uber is prompt and exactly on time, as she waves to Charlie from the sidewalk and the other stands up two floors on the fire escape, waving back at her. 

Zari lifts her phone to her face, ready to check everything she’s been ignoring for the last few hours, every tag, every comment, every mention of her anywhere and her analytics and then she catches it in the corner of her eye. 

Her head moves of its own accord, dragging her gaze away from instagram to stare at the little store front, picture perfect as if plucked from her memory, “Sorry, could you stop?” And the driver does, she hands over what she’s sure is a bit too much before she’s up and out of the car. 

It’s a little foolish to think it's the same store right? Maybe it was a chain- Though it hadn’t struck her as a chain or a brand, the little store with it’s purple letters and tiny pieces of detailing. 

_The House of Mystery_

Orchids on the windows and her heart leaps a little into her throat. 

_Books and Antiques Emporium_

Zari pushes on the door and it opens, the scent is different this time and her heart’s beat calms down slowly, maybe it really was a chain, this was more like lavender and the stinging smell of whiskey on someone’s breath. 

Like the whiskey had soaked the lavender through and down.

The shelves are lined the same way, she passes the necklace though she slows and she walks through the shelves, they really were a maze and she finally gets it. 

She believes in magic, she owns a Dragon, the _only_ known dragon alive. 

But it’s only when she turns the corner and sees the man shelving dusty leather tombs, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips and the dirty blonde hair, tucked in shirt but generally looking dishevelled and she gets it all. 

This was magic wasn’t it?

“What are you doing in New York, John Constantine?” Her voice is the only sound in the quiet store, no music to be found. 

Silence holds the power and her breath as he slides the book onto the shelf and turns to face her slowly, cigarette in one hand as he lifts it from his mouth and blinks at her, she waits for whatever he’ll say. 

It’s strange, how the encroaching loneliness that had been starting from departing Charlie’s slowly rescinds. 

“Well.” He speaks, gruffly, wide eyes and looking at her, “This is new.” 


End file.
